


heartbeat lullaby

by dancingwiththewind (highfaenyx)



Category: His Dark Materials (TV), His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: F/M, masriel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:01:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21736504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highfaenyx/pseuds/dancingwiththewind
Summary: Marisa fell, and never loosened her grip on Asriel.
Relationships: Lord Asriel/Marisa Coulter
Comments: 10
Kudos: 51





	heartbeat lullaby

An eternity ago, when they were young, and both felt reckless, powerful and ready to rule the world, they fell in love - if anyone could call _love_ what they had for each other. Obsession, addiction, curiosity; they were scholars first, and humans second, and everything else came after.

“Take me, and obliterate me,” Marisa whispered. “I am mad.”

Asriel laughed, the smile highlighting his face, echoing in his chest. “No more than me, my love.”

The endearing, _his_ endearing made things to her she was always all too proud to admit. She felt drunk and dizzy on it - not because she was desired (she knew many men and women who lusted after her; her weapon in its own right), but because she was desired by _him._ The only man she has perhaps ever respected. A mad, passionate, confident man; her equal, her mirror reflection with the same hunger in his eyes, her nemesis, her friend, her lover - the list in her head went on and on, until she gave up on counting what he meant to her. He was just _Asriel_.

The only man she could never really have.

She wondered if that was what he thought about her, too.

They didn’t change much, she thought. Or, better - they’ve changed not as much as they thought they would. They didn’t feel reckless, not anymore, for age bears burdens; but they wielded power, each in their own way, and ruled the world - only if for a while.

Marisa still loved Asriel, and he loved her.

And they both loved Lyra.

***

Falling into the abyss wasn’t an act of redemption.

They didn’t need to redeem anything; they lived as people they were, passionately, dangerously, restlessly, and that had been their right.

Marisa buried her head into the crook of Asriel’s neck. Ozymandias curled around their heads, Stelmaria clutching to their hips; they’ve lost Metatron a while ago, letting his heavy weight drag his body into the abyss.

They fell, and she found Asriel’s heartbeat the most soothing melody to fall asleep to.

Didn’t she always, though?

***

She was a woman in control, she yielded that control, fought for it, carved her way in a world of men and men and power - but one gaze of his, and she’d give that control away voluntarily, no hesitation, no remorse. Letting the walls she’s been building for decades fall down always came so naturally to her when it was about Asriel.

She hated herself for that.

She would hate him, too, if only she could, hate for the desires he bared in her, for the insecurities and doubts that surfaced when he took her hand in his. Her greatest weakness - and her greatest strength, she realised.

How lonely would it be if it were not for him.

***

She fell, and never loosened her grip on Asriel.

***

She was a complex woman, and he was a man, no less complex than her, and they both were never truly together. But they were also never truly apart, she thought, no, in all the multitude of worlds and places they always had each other.

There wasn’t a moment in her life in which Lyra and Asriel weren’t lurking in the back of her mind.

Dying with Asriel - she had never thought about that, not really; she has always imagined him falling from her hand, or vice versa, whoever would outwit another first in the weird power games they’ve played their whole lives. No, a thought of dying with Asriel had never crossed her mind.

If she had that thought though, she would probably dismiss it, lie to herself, hide it in the back of her mind. She did that well; and dying with Asriel was nonsense.

Living without him would be a nightmare.

***

Asriel fell, and embraced Marisa as strongly as he could, Ozymandias’ fur against his cheek.

***

He was just a man, and was gone the moment he laid his eyes on her. Every man, and the occasional woman in the room were the same, but they didn’t see what he saw - a smile sharper than any blade, a spark in her eye offering a glimpse into the chaos and madness in her soul, and he knew in that instant - that, however unlikely it might be, she was a match to his obsession and his madness. Everything else was just an obstacle.

He wondered if that was what she thought about him, too.

***

His head was getting light and dizzy - the aftermath of Metatron’s last blow, and he felt his consciousness slipping away from his control. But he resisted, not wanting peace, not quite yet, not now, when Marisa’s quiet breath was still there, warming his neck; how many he spent wishing to have her in his embrace? More than he can remember. Living without her was a torture; dying with her was a blessing.

He would not leave her alone.

Never again.

***

Asriel and Marisa fell into the abyss, and had their own eternity in each other’s embrace.

**Author's Note:**

> My beautiful, brave, mad scholars.


End file.
